


Fill the Gap in My Bleeding Heart

by MintyBubba



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overprotective Eggsy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintyBubba/pseuds/MintyBubba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard when you keep losing the things you are supposed to care for. But you fight all the more to keep what you still have as yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When he was five, he was told that he no longer had a father. At that time, he really didn’t understand the loss but knew that it made his mother sad. A stern but weary looking man, who had come to tell them, had given him a token and told him to be there for his mother.

And for the most part, he did, keeping the token as a promise and reminder. He never got in her way and helped as much as a child could. He did well in school and even managed to get pegged by his coach to be a potential Olympic starter in gymnastics. 

However, even with all his efforts, he still didn’t get why his mother would sometimes just cry through the days and nights. And then Dean. He didn't understand. But he made a promise, and Eggsy was not going to break it. 

Daisy came as a blessing and curse. Dean didn't seem too excited about the prospect of a child. Oh, how he bitched and moaned those months, barely showing his face for more than once a month. 

Eggsy, who, by that time, had quit the Royal Marines two years ago, was a constant presence by her side as she suffered from the nausea, cramps, and aches as her stomach gradually swelled. 

He was with her when her water broke and then for the entirety of the fourteen hours of labor. Her death-like grip left small bruises on his arms and hand. But it was worth it in the end. The first wails of the baby had been stuttered but a quick pat and she was crying loudly and demandingly. 

"She looks like a Daisy," said Michelle with a rare soft smile, as she watched Eggsy cradle the delicate bundle. "Our little flower." 

"She's a might bit tiny, don't yah think?" asked Eggsy as he tried to figure what was a more comfortable way to hold Daisy. Books and videos never really amount to much when compared to the real thing. 

"She'll grow faster than you'll think." 

And she did. It was only a matter of weeks before she was no longer being swallowed in the blankets, a couple of months when she began to babble and test her limbs. 

His mother was smiling a lot more as she recovered and spent time with him and Daisy. He really couldn't have asked for more. 

However, that sense of peace was shattered by an evening visit from Dean. He had come drunk and spewing bullshit, storming in while Eggsy had run out to buy a few jars of sauce for their dinner. Eggsy came back to the shrill cries of Daisy and the choked scream of his mother. 

Without another thought, Eggsy swung the bag that held his purchases at Dean, who was standing over his mother with his back to him. Dean went tumbling down with a grunt. 

Eggsy quickly ran to his mother pulling her to her feet. She had a bruise on her cheek and the beginnings of one on her neck. Eggsy nearly blanked from the fury at what Dean was trying to do. But he clamped down on it, still needing to get his mother and Daisy to safety first. 

"We need to get out of here," he said pushing her towards the door. "I'll get Daisy, come on, Mum." 

She stood for a moment, trying to get her bearings before nodding obediently. The assault had left her in an almost robotic state. Eggsy could only grit his teeth and pushed aside the burning anger. He moved to the crib, where Daisy laid, still crying and face splotching a horrible red. 

He picked her up, sheets and all, and rocked her gently. She immediately stopped crying, bless her, and brought her hand up to pat at him. He offered a small smile before turning to the entrance way, where his mother stood waiting. As he made his way over to her, the blank look in her eyes suddenly dispersed into clear panic. 

With a strength born from desperation and fierce need to protect, she grabbed Eggsy and shoved him out into the hall as a shot rang through the apartment. 

For a moment time stopped. Eggsy could feel the ice cold grips of dread and panic creep around his heart. He didn't want to turn around. But when he did he almost wished he hadn't. 

Please. 

No. 

That wasn't his mother on the floor. That wasn't her blood. God. Please, move. 

"NO-!"


	2. Chapter 2

When Harry Hart first met Lee's son, it had been during a rather unfortunate circumstance. After the botched training mission that cost him the life of his pupil, Harry had taken it on himself to be the bearer of the unhappy tidings. So it was on the same evening of the incident that he gone to the last two members of the Unwin family to deliver the news of Lee's passing. Michelle Unwin took it about as well as he had expected her to.

It broke her heart.

However, there was little he could do to assuage her grief as his words no longer registered in her mind. In his more self-deprecating moods, he would always regret not stepping up to comfort her. Rather, he had backed off and turned away, unable to bear her sorrow and for being the cause of it.

Instead, he took a knee before the child that had been sitting quietly through their talk, still too young to fully understand the loss of a parent. The boy was holding a snow globe between his hands, trying to gently shake the snow into swirls.

Harry gestured for the trinket, hand outstretched, "May I?"

The boy looked up at Harry, bright green eyes widening in surprise before wordlessly handing the globe over. Harry gave a quick deft flick and they both watched as the snow rapidly enveloped the entirety of the sphere. A small smile of delight danced across the child's lips.

"What is your name?" Harry asked as he set the globe on top of the cabinet 

"Eggsy,” The child craned his neck towards the cabinet as he replied, eyes still tracking the movements in the globe in delight.

"Eggsy, is it," said Harry, unable to help the small quirk of a smile from appearing, "I am going to have to ask you to hold on to this medal for me."

Eggsy turned back to Harry in curiosity, globe momentarily forgotten for the token in Harry's hand. There was an innocent spark of excitement that lit up in Eggsy's eyes as he was given the medal.

"You keep that and protect your mother, now," said Harry softly, watching as Eggsy held the medal up into the light, "She's going to need your help."

Eggsy frowned in confusion at the idea. However, when he looked over to his mother and saw that she was crying, he turned back eyes surprisingly solemn and somewhat resigned.

"M’kay. I'll be good," nodded Eggsy in agreement, medal clenched tightly in his small hands, “I pro’ise.”

With a small nod, Harry rose up and left.

Upon his return home, he ended up foregoing his customary routine. Instead, Harry poured himself a tumbler of liquor and sat silently in the living room. Mr. Pickles shuffled up to him and settled himself on Harry’s lap, providing some warmth and comfort. Harry took off his inactive glasses and before covering his eyes with his hand unable to get his thoughts to settle down.

Was it worth it?

And if he had near drunk himself to oblivion that night; well, that was his business and his business alone. It was his moment to grieve.

On the following day, Harry continued on with his duties as a Kingsman. He congratulated Lancelot once more, mindfully ignoring the swollenness under the newly appointed agent’s eyes, and took to his next assignment. Merlin, while clearly not approving his choice of action, did not offer much words of protest. He simply went on to explaining the target of the assignment.

For the next couple of years, Harry was quite caught up in his duties. Efficiently perfect. Mind you, it wasn't that Harry was trying to forget about the incident. Rather, it was more of a motivation to do well, an apology of sorts. With each passing year, on that particular night, he would make a toast to Lee.

Occasionally, when they had time, Lancelot and Merlin would join him: Lancelot because, Lee had been his close friend and comrade in training, Merlin because, as much as a pain-in-the-arse Lee had been during the training, he could not deny the affinity that Lee had for Kingsman. 

Through it all, Harry continued to wait on patiently for the call from the Unwin family. Many a times, he thought to check on them, Kingsman regulations be damned. However, he would always stop himself right before, reasoning with himself that he did not want to intrude on their lives anymore than he already had. The more traitorous part of his mind whispered a more poisonous truth. He was too much a coward to take the final step.

It was sixteen years later that the call was made. He had been on the return flight from Munich after a joint extraction with Lancelot, who was dozing in the seat by the window. There was but another ten minutes more before they were set to land at the MoK.

Harry had been finishing the last of a wonderfully aged Chapelle d'Ausone, when he received a transmission from Pellinore, the Knight who headed the Intel Communications of the Kingsman Agency.

"Good evening, Galahad." greeted Pellinore, voice crisp through a patched line, "I take it that the mission was a success?"

"Of course, my dear," teased Harry a small smile dancing across his lips, "To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you?"

There was a slight huff of amusement, before Pellinore answered in a more serious tone, "A Mister Gary Unwin has made the request for you."

The change was instantaneous, as Harry sat up, hand tightening around the glass of wine,

"What is the situation, Charlotte?" He demanded. His voice was unintentionally sharper than he meant it to be, "This had better not be one of your jokes."

"The call was traced from one of the Europol branches, Galahad," emphasised Pellinore coolly, undeterred by Harry's tone, "I've already sent the files to you."

Harry grimaced as he caught himself, "My apologies, Pellinore. I am afraid I got ahead of myself."

"As you should be, my dear," admonished Pellinore with a small tut, "One would think that after all these years, you'd have gained some semblance of decorum."

"You are the only one who says that of me," said Harry unable to help the quirk of a smile.

"Well, if I don't, no one else will." She replied, simply, "It's a wonder how people don't see through you."

"I can quite easily say the same thing about you."

"I suppose." There was a pause before Pellinore spoke, a melancholy tinge to her voice "I would recommend caution in how you plan to approach this, Galahad."

Harry frowned at that, "What do you mean?"

"I have already set up your ride and informed Merlin that you will be taking a detour." She continued, brushing off his question, "Lancelot, you either join Galahad or return to the MoK."

"Pelli-"

"You'll understand when you read it. Good evening, Galahad."

At the sudden drop of the line, Harry sighed, "Well, how long have you been listening?"

Lancelot had a look of unconcealed amusement before giving a slight shrug, expression shifting back to a more solemn frown, "Just enough."

"And what are you planning to do?"

"What would you have me do?" Returned Lancelot, as he rolled his neck to get out the cricks that developed from sleep, "Percy is not due back until midnight. I have plenty of time between now and then, if you need me."

Lancelot gave a pointed look at Harry as he waited for the elder agent to answer. The fact that it had to do with Lee remained unspoken. The silence that started to blanket them was only interrupted by the soft announcement of their arrival to the MoK.

Harry closed his eyes in thought, setting down his now empty glass. While he wouldn't have been opposed to having Lancelot accompany him, he did not want to delay the delivery of their completed assignment. However, Pellinore's words had him questioning whether or not it would be better for him to go alone. "Then I would rather you first go report to Arthur and Merlin." 

The frown on Lancelot's face deepened to a scowl, "You’re making me speak to Arthur?"

“He is your boss, James,” said Harry, feeling the tendrils of a headache creeping up, “Merlin will be there to make sure things run strictly as protocol dictates.”

“Excuse my language, but he’s an effing prick,” mutter Lancelot with the distaste that had developed over the long years, “If I had known that he was so archaic in his beliefs, I would have never agreed when Bors recommended me.”

“We would have lost a very accomplished agent, if that were the case,” chuckled Harry as he shook his head in exasperation, “You have been phenomenal on the field.”

Lancelot let out a melancholy sighed, even as he nodded, “Well, had I not joined, maybe Lee would still be alive.”

"James, enough of that," admonished Harry, a sharp look of disapproval flickering in his eyes "Lee would be proud of all that you've done as Lancelot. As a Kingsman."

"That's just the thing, Harry," said Lancelot with a bitter smile, before shaking his head, “I will be expecting you at MoK.”

Harry could only watch silently at Lancelot's sudden exit, leaving him as the sole occupant on the plane. He sat for a moment before he let out a quiet curse. He would have to apologize to Percival about Lancelot's foul mood.

An hour later, Harry was walking through the bustling streets of London towards the police station. Those who saw the expression on his face were quick to move out of his way in fear of inciting his wrath. He had tried and failed, multiple times, to reign in the anger that he had felt when he had read through what Pellinore had sent.

He stepped into the station and headed straight to the Chief Inspector's office, ignoring the yelp of protest from the receptionist. The inspector glanced up at Harry, pausing from his work on the files he had before him.

The young man looked to be in his late thirties, filled out from some training but still noticeably lanky. His short chestnut hair stuck up at odd tuffs. It had long since freed itself from the gel that had originally kept it in place. And while it was a sure feat for someone of such a young age to reach his position, it was clear from the inspectors posture and eyes that the success was not without its own price.

"Do you ever to wonder how some people exist in our world?" said the inspector without preamble. When Harry did not immediately answer, the inspector sighed tiredly as he began massaging the sides of his head, "I assume you are the gentleman that was mentioned on the tele."

"Yes," replied Harry, a slight frown marring his otherwise passive face, "I was told that I would find them situated here."

The Inspector stood abruptly, beckoning for Harry to follow him. He waved over the receptionist who had been nervously hovering by the door, whispering a few words in her ears. Her eyes widened before she nodded and scrambled back to her seat. After a moment, she started to type furiously, fingers clicking across the keyboard.

"She will be finishing up the clearance for Mr. Unwin and his young sister," explained the Inspector. They began walking down the hall and into the more quiet section of the building, "We have been trying to keep things quiet as by Mr. Unwin's request. But you have to know, little stays hidden these days.

"The reporters have been nasty little buggers about trying to get interviews with the poor chap,” he continued, pulling out a card and swiped them into an elevator, “Apparently, peaceful streets do not make for good stories.”

The inspector paused suddenly and tried to cover the grimace on his face, "My apologies, I've started ranting like a complete loon."

"It is understandable," said Harry, completely unfazed by the abrupt stop. In fact, he could quite easily sympathise with the inspector, "It would be strange if one didn't rant occasionally. Quite bad for the heart and mind, really."

The inspector looked at him sharply before a small laugh escaped his mouth, eyes crinkling. "I don't believe I introduced myself," he said with a hand outstretched, "I go by Quinn, Quinn Walden."

"Pleasure, Inspector Walden," greeted Harry, reaching out to shake Walden's hand. "Harry Hart."

"Likewise," Quinn returned, not batting an eye at Harry's insistence of keeping it formal. His grin faded and gained a more somber countenance as they stopped before a door.

Harry came to a halt as well, looking at the inspector in question. "Is something wrong, Inspector?"

There was a brief flash of conflicting emotions on Quinn’s face before he sighed and shook his head, "Mr. Unwin has not had the greatest lot."

Harry nodded, eyes darkening as he recalled the words that he had read. It was truly a series of unfortunate events, especially in this day and age. “Nevertheless, I would like to see him and perhaps, we can work something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder where this will lead to, haha. There's just so many ideas and so little time. Anyway, Have a lovely day and do stay cool.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say that texting chapters on phones is really hard. Huuuiiii, the struggle is real.
> 
> I want this one to be a doting and fussy. With heaps of feels and errr....


End file.
